Little Lost Things
by RavensGame
Summary: Dean glared at his father in the rear view mirror as he pulled his shivering brother into his arms. Being left at Sonny's hadn't been the punishment. This was his real punishment. Having Sam think he had abandoned him for four months.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, I should be cut off from posting after midnight, and yet, here I am.**

**Damn NaNo goals...**

**Okay, so, this will probably be a three or four shot. First chapter's pretty angsty. The next ones will probably be cavity-sweet as Dean attempts to prove to Sam that he will be there for him, and not leave him again. My personal headcanon is that the writers were morons who couldn't count right, and obviously, Dean is meant to be fourteen and Sam is ten. No way a twelve year old Sam would calmly wait at Bobby's for his brother to be 'found' and no way Dean makes it to sixteen without kissing a girl.**

**I hate when writers don't even get there own characters.**

**This is at least a little AU, since Dean is pretty aggressive feeling towards John.**

**Read into this what you will.**

**Reviews are love, and NaNo is crazy. This fic will get completed this month, barring unseen circumstances, but it is still a slap-an-alert on it story, since it's not worked into the update schedule. The plot bunny just wouldn't let me focus.**

**Reviews are Love**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Little Lost Things**

Sam had thought when he saw Dean again, he'd be thrilled. He'd imagined meeting Dean again, had in fact, been worried sick when neither Bobby nor John could (or would) tell Sam where Dean was.

So when John pulled up outside of Bobby's place, declaring that it was time to go pick up Dean, Sam had been ecstatic.

But as they pulled into the winding lane of the farm where apparently Dean had been staying ever since getting 'lost' (and wasn't that a crock of shit if Sam ever heard it), a sinking feeling began to grow in Sam's stomach.

Dean hadn't called, hadn't wrote.

Neither had John, of course, but that wasn't unusual, and Bobby was a hell of a lot better than John at the sometimes-parenting thing anyway.

But...Dean hadn't called.

And he hadn't wrote.

Hadn't he missed Sam?

Sam had missed Dean like crazy, like a lost limb or...or his best friend.

He'd cried himself to sleep more than once out of anxiety and fear.

How did someone just...get lost?

John and Bobby hadn't seemed overly worried, so maybe...maybe Dean hadn't been lost?

Maybe he'd just wanted a break.

Maybe he'd liked not being around Sam, liked not having to take care of Sam.

John was always telling Sam to man up, to grow up, to stop relying on Dean to take care of things for Sam.

Dean had always reassured Sam that it was fine, that they were fine. That Dean was the big brother, and that was his job.

But maybe Dean was tired of Sam, tired of Sam being his job.

Maybe...maybe Dean hadn't called, hadn't wrote, hadn't come back...because he liked being lost.

Sam stared down in trepidation at the toy airplane Bobby had given him before he left. He was too old for toys like that, and Bobby had to know that, but he'd done it just the same, just like he'd taken Sam to the park, and let him join soccer.

In fact, staying with Bobby for four months (okay, almost four months, minus the two weeks John had had him with him), would have been pretty perfect.

If Dean had been with him.

Sam was smart, not just book smart, he was street smart. He'd watched Dean and John con enough people in his short lifetime to understand that people like his older brother and father didn't play the same game as everyone else, and they sure as hell didn't play by the same rules.

So if Dean had gotten lost...

Then he had probably wanted to get lost.

Which meant...he'd wanted to get away from Sam, in all likelihood.

John wasn't around enough to need escaping from.

There was just Sam.

Sam chewed his lip, now so nervous to see his brother that he actually felt nauseous.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Dean walked down the steps of Sonny's porch and he didn't let himself look back.

He could see the stoic silhouette of his little brother in the backseat, clutching what looked to be, off all things, a toy airplane.

He nodded tersely once at John, before climbing into the back seat beside his brother.

"Hey, kiddo." He said with a grin, expecting an armful of excited little brother.

But to his surprise, Sam actually jerked a little at the name, hunching into himself a little, like he thought Dean was going to kick him or something.

Or hit him.

And he wouldn't meet Dean's eyes.

Every sense suddenly on red alert, he shot a look at the back of his father's head as John pulled the Impala out of the yard.

"Sammy." He tried again, hoping his little brother was just tired. Maybe he had fallen asleep on the way over, and was only half awake now...

"How was Bobby's?" He asked.

Sam pulled even further away, leaning into the door opposite of Dean, still not meeting Dean's eyes. "Good." He mumbled softly, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them tightly.

Dean frowned, taking in his brother's tense body language, his quiet voice.

"You feeling okay, Sammy?" Dean asked, starting down his mental 'sick-Sammy' checklist. He reached out to feel if Sam had a fever, but Sam startled, jerking so hard he actually hit his head on the glass of his window.

"Jeez, Sammy, you okay?' Dean asked, starting to reach for Sam with both hands now, but Sam's wide eyes finally flew up to his, and the look in them stopped Dean in his tracks.

Sam looked...scared. Resigned. Frightened, confused, sad. _Something_.

Everything.

Dean knew all of Sam's faces, all his expressions, but he didn't know what to label the look he was aiming at Dean, except...

Except it looked a lot like Christmas and Birthday and Parent-Teacher conference night, and John was no where to be seen.

That was the look.

It was betrayal. It was broken trust. It was _abandonment._

It wasn't anger, not really, though that might have made it easier.

But Sam didn't look angry, he just looked hurt, and what was even more heartbreaking, Dean could already see it fading from Sam's eyes, hiding behind the mask Sam had only started to develop a few months ago, when Dean had last seen him. The mask he used when he had to face John after John had failed him once again.

The mask he used because, somewhere along the line, Dean's little brother had given up crying.

But he had never used that mask on Dean before.

"Sam, hey, it's okay." Dean was babbling now, reaching for Sam, who stiffened but didn't resist as Dean pulled him into his arms. He held himself woodenly as Dean tightened his grip on his brother and cursed his father in his mind.

Bobby would never tell Dean to much about Sam, and he had been forbidden to talk to him. Dean had consoled himself with the thought that Bobby couldn't do any worse than John, but now, as he held Sam's too small frame against him, he wondered.

He met his father's eyes in the review, and something in John's eyes made a quiet anger seethe in Dean's belly.

That was what this was all about, in the end.

In John's eyes, Dean had misbehaved, so John had retaliated by taking away the one thing Dean actually cared about.

Sam.

The message was clear. Get his head in the game and be a good little soldier, or John would take Sam away again, this time for good.

Dean pulled his tense little brother closer, silently cursing his father. He'd meant to punish Dean, but Sonny's had been good, a good place, and Dean had allowed himself to forget just how dark their world could be.

Sam hadn't had that luxury, apparently.

And in his mind, Dean had just abandoned him for four months.

Maybe that was John's real punishment.

Making Dean look at the hurt and confusion in Sam's eyes, knowing that Sam was already to wise and world-worn to ask.

He was no longer the little boy who was always so full of questions. Now he was the little boy who had been left by everyone he loved at least once.

Dean wished for one wild moment that he could jump out of the car, and take Sam with him, back to Sonny's, back to safety.

Sam shivered once in his arms, and Dean looked down, frowning.

John had the windows cracked, both he and Dean ran hot, but Sam was always cold, had always been that way, and he wasn't even wearing a jacket, or long sleeves. Dean himself was wearing a new down jacket that Sonny had bought him, the first new jacket he'd ever had.

Dean had protested the purchase, but Sonny had pointed out that the courts gave him money for exactly that reason.

Now he unzipped it, pulling it open just long enough to pull Sam inside.

Sam stiffened even more, but soon relaxed despite himself, as he finally warmed up, probably for the first time all day.

Soon he was dozing lightly against Dean's side, and Dean wrapped his arms around him tightly as he stared holes into the back of John's head.

He'd like to pretend that Sam falling asleep against him meant that things were better, that _they_ were better, but he knew it wouldn't be that easy.

As far as Sam knew, Dean had walked away from him for four months without so much as a look back.

Dean's little brother might be safe in his arms, but Dean was a far walk from having him back. Dean hadn't been the one lost for four months.

Sam had.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: And here we go, the second installment of 'Little Lost Things'. I think the next chapter will wrap this project up. Might get a little AU, though. **

**So, let's see. Prisoner Of War updated last night, and All The Pretty Monsters will probably update today. Tuesday's Child is such a blast to write, and I think that will update tomorrow.**

**Reviews are love, and the slap-an-alert-on-it remains in effect for this story, since it will probably be late November before I wrap this one up.**

**As Always, **

**EverReader**

**Disclaimer: If this was my sandbox, we would have seen this in the show, and I wouldn't have had to write it. **

**Little Lost Things – Part Two**

"**Hard Won Victory"**

Dean was a hunter by nature. Some people were just born for lives like theirs, and Dean _was_, perhaps even more than John, in some ways.

After all, John had been settled down happily (well, semi-happily, anyway) with Mary for years before everything went to hell and she was killed. That was when John had turned to the vagabond, hunter's lifestyle they now lived.

But Dean had transitioned over even more successfully. He liked hunting, liked the game of it, the danger and the adrenalin. He liked the feeling of being the dangerous gunslinger who blew into town only to blow out again.

Sure, Sonny's place had opened his eyes to a different way of life, and it had been a good life, but the honest truth was, Dean _liked_ hunting.

Dean was a hunter, it was etched in his bones.

So now, facing his most wily and wary prey to date, Dean knew he would need cunning and ingenuity.

And patience.

Dean was stalking his little brother.

He was determined to push past Sam's weary, lonely, knee-jerk fear reactions and find the little brother he'd lost four months past.

Sonny's had been good, that was true. It had felt nice to be a kid, to not always be expected to carry all the weight, to have all the answers. It had been nice to feel taken care of. But Dean had walked away from all that willingly, without so much as a glance back, because of Sam.

And he'd do it again.

Because no matter how good it had been at Sonny's, nothing, nothing was worth Sammy.

And Dean was going to get him back.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural **

Sam didn't know how to feel, now that Dean was back. He was confused, and somehow, having Dean back felt even more lonely than when he'd been 'lost', because now that Sam understood what must have really happened, there was a giant, yawning chasm between the brothers.

Sam had driven Dean away.

Sam could come up with no other reasonable explanation. He'd been to needy, and too demanding, and Dean had run away from him.

Sam knew now how bad things could be for their family, how tight money could be, and even, he suspected, food, though Dean never said too much about that.

But for years he knew he had simply been a demanding, selfish brat. How many times had Dean given him the last share of the cereal, or the juice, or watched a cartoon he hated just to appease Sam?

How many times had Sam come out of his elementary school to see Dean waiting for him in the rain, or the snow?

It had always been that way, and honestly, Sam hadn't ever really questioned it. Other kids had parents who did things like that, and while Sam didn't have a mom, or even a dad most days, he had Dean.

Dean was who Sam remembered soothing the nightmares, or squinting at the bottle of cold medicine, trying to figure out the correct dosage when Sam's cough had kept him up at night.

It had never occurred to Sam that Dean might get tired of him, of taking care of him, because Dean had always simply _been there_, but obviously he did, and now Sam was terrified.

Because as lonely as it was with the all the distance between them, at least Dean had come back, and what if he decided to leave Sam again?

So Sam determined not to be such a burden. Maybe if he wasn't so needy, so greedy, Dean would stay.

Maybe, if Sam just tried a little harder to be _good_...

Maybe he wouldn't leave Sam all over again.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

"Sammy, wait right here after school. Your class gets out fifteen minutes before mine, okay?" Dean said, purposefully using the name Sammy, instead of Sam. John had stopped calling Sam 'Sammy' around the same time Sam had discovered his journal, and realized that monsters were real.

Most of John's friends, like Caleb and Bobby, had followed suit, so now the nickname was the sole property of Sam's big brother, which was fine by Dean.

Sammy had always been his anyway.

"You don't have to do that, Dean." Sam mumbled, looking anywhere but at Dean's face. "Home's the other way. I could meet you..."

Dean shook his head adamantly. "No way, kiddo. I'm not leaving you outside of a high school for some asshole bully to screw with. Just wait here. I'll come and get you, and we'll go home together."

After a moment, Sam nodded jerkily, but that afternoon, Dean was more resigned than surprised when he saw an awkward Sam standing by the high school bike rack, looking like a lost puppy.

"Sam!" He scolded, looking around worriedly. He knew first hand just how big of a jerk some kids could be, and Sam was small, even for ten. Not to mention, some well meaning teacher or secretary would take one look at Sam and see for themselves just how out of place Sam was, and that could spell big trouble.

"It's fine, Dean. The walk was fine, and no one bothered me." Sam said hurriedly, cringing from the angry tone in Dean's voice.

Dean altered his timbre immediately, internally cussing himself out for taking his concern out on Sam.

Sam obviously thought things had changed between the two of them doing Dean's absence, and the poor kid was just trying to find his footing again.

Dean knelt down, forcing Sam to meet his eyes. "It's okay, Sam. I'm not mad at you, I get it. But your school's not just a couple blocks away, there's a major highway in between. I know you know how to cross the street, but you're only ten, kiddo. Besides, some of these guys are creeps, and Dad will bust my ass if I get into a fight the first week of school."

Sam nodded slowly, biting his lip. Dean sighed, standing up and looking around to make sure no one was paying them any undue attention.

"Come on, kiddo, let's get out of here."

It was a pattern Dean would come to be familiar with.

Sam seemed almost frantic to no longer rely on Dean. He'd do anything Dean asked, eat whatever he cooked, watch whatever he wanted to watch. He went to bed without so much as a rebellious glance when Dean told him too.

At first, Dean had thought he had misread the situation, and Sam really was mad at him, and this was Sam's version of the silent treatment.

Eventually, the truth made itself known, though it made Dean almost sick to his stomach.

Sam was scared.

More precisely, he was scared of Dean, of needing Dean too much, and Dean leaving him again.

It made Dean sick to his stomach, the way Sam was so afraid of bothering Dean he wouldn't even ask for help with his homework anymore.

Dean didn't know how to broach the subject. John had forbidden Dean to talk about it, Sonny's, the theft, any of it. It made Dean furious, that John would use Sam's pain as a means to teach Dean a lesson, but a lifetime's worth of obedience was ingrained in Dean, and he obeyed, however reluctantly.

So how to convince Sam that Dean hadn't chosen to abandon him when he couldn't say any of the things that would give Sam the proof his methodical mind demanded?

Sam had obviously weighed the facts, and come to his own conclusion. It was the wrong one, of course, but it was a logical one, given the information Sam had to work with, and Dean didn't blame him.

So Dean did the best he could to provide Sam with proof of his own.

He upped the ante.

Sam was independent by nature, and John and Dean had fostered that independence, knowing it was a trait that might some day save Sam's life.

But now, Dean purposefully moved backwards, taking on task's for his brother that Sam hadn't required help with in years.

He ran Sam's shower water. He zipped up Sam's jacket for him. He didn't just walk Sam to his school, he walked him to the door of his classroom.

Sam pushed back, of course, in his frightened, quiet way, but Dean was having none of it.

He hovered, he pushed, he got into Sam's personal space.

Never a particularly affectionate person, Dean know made it a point to foster physical contact, much like they had had when Sam had been younger and solely dependent on Dean for everything from help washing his hands to crossing the street.

The first time he'd hugged Sam out of the blue, the kid had stiffened, and Dean could have sworn he heard him whisper the word 'christo'. It took a few days, but eventually Sam no longer startled every time Dean reached out and smoothed down his hair, or hugged him one-armed.

Dean found that he had actually missed the contact, and hadn't even realized it.

John was far from affectionate, and for years, Sam had been Dean's only real human contact. As Sam had gotten older and more independent, the physical contact between them had dwindled, which Dean had told himself was natural, they were guys, after all, not chicks.

But over and over again at Sonny's, Dean had witnessed casual affection, pats on the back or shoulder, the way Sonny would tip up a boys head so they would look him in the eye. Sonny wasn't afraid to hug, either, even though the boys usually reacted in the same startled, stiff way that Sam did.

So he took a page out of Sonny's book, and he invaded Sam's space. He sat by him when he did his homework. He sat next to him at dinner, instead of across the table. He took Sam with him to the library, whenever he had to research for Dad, instead of leaving him in the room to do his own homework.

He asked Sam questions, over and over again, until Sam actually started answering them again, and Dean rejoiced at hearing the hint of old Sam in his voice.

He made sure that every time his kid turned around, he was right there. He'd leave school early, just to beat Sam out the door at his middle school. He became Sam's second shadow, determined to convince Sammy that Dean wasn't going to leave him again.

And something strange happened.

Dean realized he liked it. Liked being needed, liked relearning all Sam's quirks and foibles, liked knowing the meaningless details of Sam's day. No one had ever needed Dean, not really, no one other than Sam, and Dean liked it. But the truth is, Sam had never really decided before on his own accord to need Dean.

Dean had simply been the older brother, and quite often, the only one there when Sam was growing up.

This time, Dean felt a little like he was earning his little brother back, and when Sam finally started to open up to him, to lean into the hugs, and look happy instead of just surprised every time Dean showed up when he promised, Dean felt like...

Well, he felt like this time, Sam had _chose_ him.

For nearly a month, Dean campaigned for Sammy's trust back, and it was working.

The fear started to fade, and the uncertainty. Sam no longer hesitated so much when he needed Dean's help with something, and he began to give his own opinions again.

Dean still missed Sonny's, still struggled with the weight of the responsibility that was Sammy, but this time, he had chosen Sam as well, and he wanted it.

And then John showed up one night, bruised and a little bloody. Dean and Sam got him patched up, poured him into bed.

The next morning, he declared that Sam was going to stay by himself for a few days, while Dean helped him hunt a pack of black dogs.

Just like that, with just a few simple words, Dean watched every inch of improvement he had won with Sam disappear, as that carefully blank look took over Sammy's face.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: At long, long last, Little Lost Things is concluded. Thank you for your patience.

As Always, EverReader

**Little Lost Things- Chapter Three**

"**What Little Boys Are Made Of"**

Dean felt like ants were writhing underneath his skin, or perhaps rats were gnawing at his insides as he did his best to sit stoically beside John as the Impala as it pulled out of the motel parking lot.

He didn't look back, COULDN'T look back at his brother, couldn't even bear to glance in the rearview mirror.

It wasn't fair, god, it wasn't _fair._

After all Dean's hard work, after Sam's fear and trepidation had finally started to fade, now John wanted Dean as his partner on a hunt. An overnight hunt would have been bad enough, but as Dean studied the map on his lap, tracing the Impala's route to their future hunt, he realized John had probably underestimated the length of their absence by at least a few days.

Or the bastard had done it on purpose.

The thought startled Dean, streaking across his mind like an angry poltergeist. He'd done his best to tamp down his anger and resentment of John's little "lesson", instead choosing to focus on the needs of his little brother.

But now all that effort was wasted and Dean found that glowing ember of discontent, of _dislike _had not only failed to go out.

It had grown.

Day by day, as he watched his Father ignore the needs of his children, chastise them and give orders like they were recruits and not his own flesh and blood, his mind had flashed back to his time at Sonny's.

At first it had just been wishful, but in time it had segued into something very like….homesickness.

He'd caught himself wondering what Sam's face would have looked like the first time he'd sat around the large dining room table with all the other laughing and teasing boys. What would Sam think of the bunk room, with its' extra-long mattresses (because Sonny understood that they were literally 'growing boys') and the easy walk to the school bus stop every morning. He'd fantasized about showing his little brother his wrestling trophy.

In short, he'd daydreamed about going back, but this time with Sammy.

"Dean!" John barked, breaking into Dean's reverie. "Did you hear what I said? Don't waste all the cell phone minutes checking on your brother. You need to stop coddling him."

"Yessir." Dean replied tonelessly, staring out the window.

Idly, he wondered how much a few bus tickets would cost.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sam sat forlornly at the chipped Formica dinette set, listening to the fading rumble of the Impala's engine.

Alone again.

He'd been left alone before, of course. He'd grown accustomed to a night (or even two) without the comforting presence of his older brother.

But that had been before.

Sam had started to hope that maybe things would be different. Maybe Dean hadn't grown tired of being his older brother, maybe he'd simply needed a…vacation.

People on TV were always taking vacations to relax, to "get away from it all". Perhaps Dean had simply needed a vacation from being Sam's brother for a while, and now he was refreshed, or whatever it was people felt when they came back from some place nice. Sam had never been anywhere particularly nice, but he knew places like that existed. So maybe all the worries and fear and solitude were behind them now.

But now he was alone again, surrounded by nothing but the echoing silence of the empty motel room.

Intellectually, he knew that this hadn't been Dean's idea, but he also knew that it didn't really matter. It was still going to happen again and again and again.

And Sam had been a naïve fool to think anything else.

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

'_Ten days…'_ Dean thought furiously to himself as he grabbed his duffel from the trunk of the Impala. Ten days Sam had been left alone, and John had only allowed him to check in every other day or so, for a scant moment or two before forcing Dean to get off in order the save money on expensive cell phone minutes.

Dean wasn't even sure Sam had been left with ten days' worth of food or money.

He'd barely managed to get his bag out and the trunk shut again before John was pulling out again, headed towards the bar this time, no doubt.

Dean had naturally not said anything, but he secretly thought the hunt could have been concluded at least two days sooner had John spent at least a little more time sober.

He opened the door quietly, not wanting to wake Sammy if he was already in bed.

The room was empty, however, and Dean's heart quickened in his chest as he rapidly began to search the room for signs of a struggle or other trouble. The room itself seemed fine, threadbare and patched and identical to every other room they'd ever stayed in, minus Dean's little brother.

Just then, the door opened behind him and he whirled, one hand reaching for his knife even as he hoped it would be Sammy.

Indeed, it was Sammy, startled and wide-eyed, a frightened wraith in one of Dean's old hoodies, the sweatshirt oversized and baggy on his small frame.

"Dean?" The word was more question than name, and another part of his heart broke as he viewed his brother, his kid, watching him warily once more. He knew that look, recognized it, not just from looking at Sam, but from wearing that face himself whenever their father had come home in the middle of the night.

"Hey, kiddo." He said it softly, as if gentling his voice could make up for his glaring absence these last few weeks. "What're you doin' out so late, huh?"

Sam shifted uneasily.

"Nothing." He finally said, not making eye contact.

Dean swallowed down his other questions, deciding that putting him on the spot about his whereabouts was the last thing he should be doing at that moment.

Sam slowly closed the door behind him, edging warily around Dean towards the kitchen area of their 'Home', if the dingy room could be called that.

"So…" Dean began awkwardly, unsure of where to even start, now that he was so obviously having to start over again with his kid. "What have you been doi-"

He was interrupted by a quiet thud as Sam shifted, the motion causing a small object to fall from where it was tucked inside his overlarge hoodie.

Dean's entire world narrowed in that moment, a rushing filling his ears as he studied the innocuous item lying in the yellow light of the bare lightbulb.

It was a small jar of peanut butter, like the kind you'd pay too much for at the convenience store.

Like the kind a hungry kid would steal at the convenience store.

Like the kind Dean had been sent to Sonny's for stealing at a convenience store.

"Dean? Dean? Can you hear me? Sit down!" Sam's voice sounded scared, his face pinched and white, and Dean did his best to focus, but the pain and the bitterness, the damned irony of it all was a living thing, fighting it's way up his throat and he was afraid if he opened his mouth to reassure his brother he might start howling with rage instead.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…I know stealing is bad, I know it's bad if I get caught, but the money ran out two days ago and I didn't know what to do…" Sam was babbling now, breathless and unware of the frightened tears slipping down his cheeks. "Please-don't-be-mad-I-won't-do-it-again." He finished in a rush that ended like a whimper.

Dean forced himself to speak then, just one word-"Sammy."

He pulled his brother into a hug, rocking them both a little. "Christ Sammy, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"Dean, are you crying?" Sam sounded even more frightened now, and Dean sucked in a lung-full of air, determined to get himself under control.

They needed to move quickly.

"Sammy, pack your bag, quick as you can."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural.**

Dean cradled his sleeping brother as best he could one-handed as he stared out the bus windows. They'd left two days ago, a stroke of good fortune leading to a Greyhound leaving town the same time they needed to.

Sam had been so frightened by Dean's behavior, he'd never faltered when Dean ordered him to pack up. He'd become confused when they got to the bus depot, but he neverargued, just followed Dean obediently on first one bus, then another as they began to make their way across the country. They'd been traveling for over a day before he'd even ventured to ask where they were headed.

"A safe place, Sammy. A good place." Dean had said, as reassuringly as he could. He could only pray that Sonny would help them, could help them, when they got there.

But he'd offered to help Dean, and Dean had believed him when he said it. And Dean had never met someone who could look at someone like Sam and not want to help him.

So for the first time in his life, he prayed.

Twelve hours later, they finally got off their last bus. Standing at the almost empty depot, Dean took a shaky breath before heading over to the payphone by the office. Slipping in the last of his change, he dialed a number that had quickly come to represent safety to him.

"Sonny." The greeting was simply enough, yet Dean was suddenly terrified.

"It's me." Dean choked out, then clarified-"I mean, it's Dean."

"Dean?" Sonny's voice had sharpened, easily reading the fear and stress in Dean's voice.

"I need your help. I….I need you to come get us." Dean said falteringly.

"Us?" Sonny questioned, the sound of a jacket being put on in the back ground.

"I've got Sammy with me this time. I brought my brother."

**Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural Supernatural**

Sonny had been better than Dean had even hoped for. Within half an hour, he'd picked the boys up, quickly getting them settled in his old, beat up farm truck, the one he used for errands.

He didn't say anything at first, and soon the warmth of the old truck's heater had soothed Sam into a troubled sleep.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" Sonny said finally, careful to keep his voice low. He'd known Dean had a younger brother, had known Dean had thought the world of him. But the reality of Sam Winchester was more than he'd expected. He'd seen beaten kids, and angry kids, and hungry kids, but something about Sam touched him. He'd never seen a child that looked so…weary.

Like he'd never had a safe place to rest his head his entire life.

"Sammy stole peanut butter." Was all Dean said, and it shouldn't have made sense, shouldn't have been enough to explain anything, but somehow it was, because Sonny remember why it was that Dean had come to him in the first place.

So it was enough for Sonny.

"Alright then." He said, careful to keep the anger from his voice. "In the morning, I'll start making calls."

Dean nodded silently, pulling his brother closer.

Dawn was just cresting the horizon as they pulled onto the ranch.

And that was when every thought of warmth and safety fled Dean's mind, his whole body tensing so suddenly that Sam was jostled awake as Sonny killed the trucks engine.

The Impala was parked in the driveway, a silently furious John Winchester leaned against it with forced, fake casualness.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his voice full of simple _fear _and it was enough to return his brother's resolve.

"Stay with Sonny, Sam. I'll take care of Dad." Dean said, with all the big brother courage he could muster.

"Are you going away again?" Sam asked, and Dean grinned at him crookedly.

"No way kiddo. I told you, this is a good place. And we're staying. Me and you." Dean said.

Sam studied his brother, looking for the lie. Unable to find one, he said "I don't remember Mom. But I think she would have liked us to find a good place."

Dean nodded, unable to speak, and then he levered himself out of the truck. Squaring his shoulders, he walked over to John.

"Boy, what the hell do you think you are playing at? I've had half the hunter community out looking for you two. I thought one of the damn monsters had gotten you." John growled, standing menacingly.

Dean swallowed, forcing back a lifetime of ingrained submission. "Then you should have been around when we left. Then you'd have known where your kids were."

John's face tightened, his expression promising retribution. "Get your brother, and get in the car, now Dean."

Dean backed away a few steps, placing himself firmly between John and Sam.

"No." He replied curtly.

"What did you say to me?" John said in furious amazement.

"He said no." The voice came from behind Dean, as Sam ran up to his brother, a furious puppy defending his family from a wolf. "It's safe here, Dean said so, and we're staying. We don't want to hunt. We don't want motel rooms and diners and shotguns. We want safety."

The look on John's face could only be described as deadly. He turned to Dean, a malicious glint in his eye. "You want to stay, boy, that's fine by me. But Sam comes with me."

"Like hell he does." Dean growled back, suddenly finding his voice and the hundreds and hundreds of words he'd spent his whole damn life swallowing down. "I raised Sam. Not you, not Bobby or Caleb or Pastor Jim. I did. I changed diapers and made bottles and treated fevers. I taught him to read and to tie his shoes. I remembered his birthday and signed YOUR name on his report cards. I've done everything, all the stuff you were supposed to do, but the stupid hunt was too damn important for you to bother, so you _go._ You go now, you just go away and leave us here. I'll keep us safe, and you can kill all the monsters you want. Just leave us here. It's over Dad. Sam's right, Mom would never have allowed this."

"Don't you dare mention your mother as you try and walk away from hunting the things that killed her!" John started towards them, but the sound of a rifle crack echoed suddenly from behind them and everybody froze.

"I suggest you move along, Mr. Winchester." Sonny said almost conversationally. "Dean was pretty close mouthed about you while he was here, but I learned enough to piece together some things. And I'm betting the little one won't be half so hesitant to talk. You go on, do whatever it is you think needs doing. It's obviously more important than your children so you just move along, and leave them here. They won't be the first or the last I raise, so you just move along. Or I'll start making phone calls that will make your life right difficult. They'd only come back here again anyway, by my guess. My ranch isn't exactly going anywhere, and if nothing else, you obviously taught them to be self sufficient. Why don't you just leave the rest to me."

John hovered there angrily for a moment, and a part of Dean wanted to feel sorry for him, but the image of Sam's stolen peanut butter laying on that cracked linoleum floor was too strong.

"Go on Dad. We'll be right here. You'll know where we are, and someday, if you want to try a be a real family, come talk to me—" He glanced down at his little brother. "To us. We'll listen. But until then, leave us alone. We'll be fine here."

John stared at first him, then Sammy for a long moment, before getting into the Impala without another world.

A part of Dean's heart cracked as he watched his father drive away.

But it didn't break. John had taught him to be stronger than that.

And standing in the morning sunlight with his brother's face buried in his side, Dean felt like he could breathe for the first time in years.

Maybe ten years.

"_You take your brother and run, Dean. Don't look back_!" The memory echoed in his mind, finally fading, at long last, the task finally completed.

They were gonna be okay.

They were Winchesters, after all.


End file.
